


winding up straight in your sneakers

by hirokiyuu



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Gen, band au, there's some akira+akechi stuff possibly implied but it's not big enough to warrant a tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-25
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2019-02-06 14:28:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12819534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hirokiyuu/pseuds/hirokiyuu
Summary: An up and coming band discusses popular music trends. (Band AU feat. idol!Akechi)





	winding up straight in your sneakers

**Author's Note:**

> i actually wrote 98% of this a billion years ago but [redacted]'s dialogue wanted to beat me up behind the denny's parking lot so i never posted it until now. this is mostly a setup for a longer au, but god knows if i'll ever get to it, and i think this stands decently well on its own?
> 
> probably the only thing you need to know going in is that morgana is a human middle schooler.
> 
> title from los campesinos [you! me! dancing!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nj6SO_yKMe8)

“Oh, _gross_ ,” Ryuji says, when the first notes of the song start floating through the radio. “Someone turn that shit off.”

“It never hurts to pay attention to the trends,” Haru says, primly. She’s the only one of them who hasn’t stripped in the studio’s hot stale air, but her neck is damp with sweat. Still, she’s unruffled, sipping her iced tea with her usual composure.

“We’re not trendy, though,” Ryuji complains, leaning his chair back on two legs so his head hits the wall, fanning himself fervently. After the mess he’d made of the floor last time, he’d been banned from pouring water over his head again. “C’mon, I hate this guy.”

Akechi begins to sing. His voice is well-suited for the melody, sweet and bright. “She’s got a point,” Morgana says from his spot on the floor. He’s got sheet music spread all around him but his pen is capped, and he spins it to the beat of the song. “It never hurts to expand our horizons -- no matter what the singer might think of our band.”

Ryuji waves his hand. “Whatever, kid.”

“Don’t call me that!”

“I don’t know,” Ann interjects. She’s holding her hair up with one arm, fanning herself with her free hand. Her bra is red with a little heart cutout; her shirt lies discarded on the floor next to her. This late in the summer they’ve all gotten used to the sight of her like this. Not even Morgana blushes anymore. “I mean, Ryuji’s got a point. We don’t make music like this.”

The song reaches its chorus. Like this you’d never know it once was written for two people. “Well, I don’t think it could hurt, either,” Makoto says. Her sports bra and bike shorts are at odds with the reserved studious cut of her hair. “Don’t you want to know how the competition is doing?”

Ann tilts her head back, frowning up at the ceiling. “I guess,” she says, “but everything he does leaves me with a bad taste in my mouth, y’know?”

“I can’t say I don’t agree.” Makoto’s lips press together. She’s the only one besides Akira who’s interacted with Akechi one-on-one, and it shows here in the stiff lines of her back. “But all the same, ignoring him won’t make the problem go away.”

Ann’s frown deepens by degrees. “You’re probably right,” she admits, leaning over just enough for her curls to brush Makoto’s bare shoulder. “But I can’t stand him. I wish he _would_ just go away! Why can’t we ignore him out of existence?”

“If only it were that easy,” Yusuke says, mournfully. He’d gotten in the habit of pinning his bangs back with clips borrowed from Ann. Futaba makes fun of him for it every time. “His music is an offense to the arts. All form, no substance. He has not a single shred of originality in his body!”

“I don’t think he’s the one writing his songs,” Akira offers, mild even in the heat. He’s still wearing his glasses, despite the sweat beading where the plastic sits on his face.

Yusuke sniffs, offended. “That simply makes it worse. How could he let others control the creative process like that? It’s unforgivable!”

Futaba nods vigorously. Unlike the others she’s still got her shirt on, but her bra is on the floor, half-caught on Yusuke’s bag. “Honestly! He’s always saying we’re so like, unpolished or whatever, but at least we don’t sound like we left our songs in bleach overnight.”

Makoto blinks. “...Bleach?”

Futaba nods even harder. “Yeah! They’re just so…. sanitized and pretty and _boring_. Blech.” She sticks out her tongue. “There’s no passion!”

The song shifts into the bridge, Akechi’s voice going higher and softer. “This part isn’t too bad,” Akira says, reaching up to twist a little hair between his fingers. The group turns to look at him at once, various expressions of disbelief on their faces. Akira shrugs. “He can go higher than I can.”

“That’s true,” Morgana says, with a twist to his mouth. “But that’s why we have Lady Ann, as well. _Her_ voice --” and the kid’s voice picks up here, a little bit breathy “--makes up for yours. It’s angelic, you know? So sweet --”

“Shut up,” Ryuji interrupts, wrinkling his nose. “I don’t need to hear you wax poetic about your crush for another half-hour again, that’s worse than listening to Akechi.”

Morgana goes red to his ears. “It--It’s not a crush, I simply admire her artistic talents! Just because you wouldn’t know true skill if it bit you doesn’t mean --”

Ryuji drops his chair down with a thunk. “Whaddya mean, I wouldn’t know true skill?! I’m the best bass player here, and --”

“Oh please, as if anyone else has ever tried --”

“Yeah, because they know how good I am --”

“There they go again,” Makoto says with a sigh. She leans in towards Ann, lets their shoulders brush. “Why are they always like this?”

Ann grins, leans in and lowers her voice. “They’re the same age, mentally,” she says, and Makoto cracks a grin in return. Anything else they might say to each other is lost under the others’ yelling. Futaba’s already got her laptop open while Yusuke’s pulled out his binder of lyrics; Haru takes another sip of her iced tea as she watches Morgana and Ryuji level insults at each other the way another person might watch a volleyball rally.

The radio is still going. If Akira weren’t sitting next to it he wouldn’t be able to hear; as it is, he can just barely catch Akechi’s voice floating through the air. Akira closes his eyes, leans in. The tune is a little different but he still knows all the words; he just barely mouths along, movements so tiny the others can’t tell.

The lyrics are the same as they ever were. Despite everything, he thinks, at least there’s still that.

**Author's Note:**

> EDIT: have some [liner notes](http://hirokiyuu.tumblr.com/post/167860560659/winding-up-straight-in-your-sneakers-liner-notes) y'all
> 
> EDIT2: some good good [fanart](https://werateakechis.tumblr.com/post/167861221538/old) from my good good appmom 
> 
> i may or may not add more to this, i've got about 2/3rds of a second part already written and i'm pretty fond of it as it is.
> 
> catch me on twit @yuunamakis or @hyperionshotgun if u wanna talk games 2 me!


End file.
